Visions of Someday
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: [Liason COMPLETE]: An unexpected and somewhat mystical visitor keeps Jason from letting Elizabeth walk out of his life for good.


**Visions of Someday**

"I hope you enjoy what you do, Jason, I really do." Her voice was barbed with bitterness, wounding him deep inside. "Because when it all comes down to it, you'll always be Sonny Corinthos' enforcer. First, last, and always."

He cringed, remembering when he clasped her small, warm hands outside Kelly's, still clutching her dish towel, and told her she'd be his top priority always. First, last _and_ always. And now she was returning that vow, after stomping all over it with her lavender flip-flops.

"I just hope it's enough." Sapphire eyes narrowed dangerously, she tried to shove past him toward the staircase.

His stomach clenched and his hand, as if of it's own volition, swallowed her elbow as she swept past. "Elizabeth-"

She spun free, wrenching her arm away as if his palm burned her skin. "Don't touch me," she spit out, eyes blazing with a fire that he never imagined would be directed at him.

Hands held up in surrender, Jason backed away, hoping she'd stay to hear him out. Fortunately, the look in his eyes convinced her not to storm up the stairs immediately.

"What?" The question was hurled at him from under a deep scowl.

Jason watched her as she crossed her slender arms over the 'motocyclette' image on her chest, angrily huffing away a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Look, I'm sorry for how everything turned out, Elizabeth, I really am."

She found herself rolling her eyes despite the sincerity that laced every word. Screw him and his sincerity.

He stepped closer, those damn piercing eyes pleading with her. "You know the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you, and I'm sorry I did. But I can't control what happens with…_business_," he hedged, picking his words carefully and trying to gauge their effect on her, "and I hope you know there was nothing I could have done."

She surprised him by snorting. Elizabeth _never_ snorted; it wasn't ladylike. "You could have told me."

"No, no I couldn't," he tried to explain, irritation getting the best of him. "You knew that coming into this relationship, Elizabeth." He tried to ignore the petulant way she rolled her eyes at _relationship_. "You knew what my life was like. I'm sorry you forgot, but that's not my problem."

Her jaw dropped at his words, even though part of her realized he didn't mean it quite the way that sounded. But the rest of her pushed that small part into the recesses of her consciousness, focusing instead on what _Jason said_ and not what _Jason meant_. She'd spent long enough trying to puzzle together what Jason meant from what he said, and she wouldn't do it for a minute longer.

She was done.

Jason watched as the fire that was just roaring so furiously in her deep blue orbs fizzled out. Her body relaxed from her agitated stance and she shrugged her shoulders once.

"You know what, Jason?" Her voice carried indifference and residual resentment. "That's fine. Whatever you say. I'm just so embarrassed that I was stupid enough to think we could make this work. I honestly don't even know what I was thinking."

He winced, her apathetic words cutting deeper than her bitter ones.

"How _could_ we make it work, after all?" She cocked her head to the side, arching one perfectly formed eyebrow. Her lips twisted in disgust and Jason couldn't tell whether it was meant for him or herself. "How could we make it work when you refuse to let anyone in?"

He sucked in a breath, readying a retort when she kept on speaking.

"No one can ever affect you, Jason, or have any impact on you whatsoever because you refuse to let them. You'll never change because you'd never _want_ to change."

She shrugged once more, striding jauntily toward the staircase. Jason didn't make any move to stop her.

"You know," she mused, turning around on the bottom step. "I should have known all along that we were doomed before we started. But then again, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?"

She shook her head sadly, letting out a huff of disbelief at her naïveté. When she turned to him once more, her face was stoic, her voice devoid of feeling. "I'll just pick up the last of my belongings and be out of your way, Mr. Morgan."

With that, she turned and ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time.

**_How the hell did we wind up like this?_**

His anger boiled inside of him.

It always turned out like this. _Always_.

Why did he always have to choose between her and the business? Why, just once, couldn't the woman in his life truly understand the duties and responsibilities of a man in his position?

Because that would be too good for him, damn it. The life _always_ chased them away. Every one of them, with the exception of Carly, who was just a psycho anyway.

He dragged his fingers forcefully through his hair, struggling to control his temper as another thought hit him.

What if it wasn't the life?

What if it was…him?

No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he lost his temper. His anger erupted inside, powerful and dark and destructive. Not geared at her, not geared at his job. Aimed like a missile toward the cruel ironies of life.

It roared within him, demanding its manifestation. His hands gripped the backrest of his favorite leather desk chair, their clenching motion his last bastion against the anger.

The bastion was lost as the chair whirled perilously away from him as he swung it, pendulum-like. It careened into the door of the coat closet with a loud clatter, but Jason was beyond noticing.

The sound of Elizabeth's angry _clomp_ing above his head as she finished packing drove him on as he lost all control.

His anger was sinister and perilous, a true force to be reckoned with. He rarely unleashed it, but once unfurled there was no stopping it.

He didn't even try to regain control as he swept meticulously stacked and ordered papers from his desk onto the floor. A crystal paperweight teetered precariously on the edge before dropping off the desk and shattering on the hardwood below. The shards skittered across the smooth surface, some burying themselves in the nearby carpet.

He wondered if she heard the shattering noise upstairs, if she could hear _anything_ above that stomping that was now echoing mercilessly in his head.

**_Why weren't we able  
To see the signs that we missed  
And try to turn the tables?_**

Still seething, he turned away from his desecrated desk in search of something else upon which to unleash his rage.

Hands balled tightly into fists at his sides fell limp when he spied a pad of paper balanced haphazardly on the silver handle of her blue suitcase. That simple suitcase contained her life, as she had said jokingly when she moved in.

But the true _essence_ of Elizabeth Webber was absently left sitting astride the luggage.

He bent slowly, his clumsy fingers, still trembling slightly with the force of his anger, finding the sides of the drawing pad.

Flipping it open, a detailed sketch of his motorcycle assaulted him. Next came a shirtless Zander grinning while lining up a shot. Flipping quickly past that, Jason skimmed over images of his sister, Michael with his train set, and the view from the balcony. But the following image had him stopping suddenly, unable to believe what he saw.

The eyes in the photo, if open, would have been staring straight back at him. He tilted the page sideways, squinting at the sketch from the correct perspective.

She had drawn _him_.

He perceived the gently sloping lines beneath him to be the shape of his mattress with the blankets cascading down. A cluster of small, sweeping lines marked where the sheets bunched above his waist. He was on his side, one muscular hand resting by his head, interposed with his cheek. Limply curled fingers seemed to call attention to the spikes that crowned his head, unruly and tousled in his sleep. His eyes and mouth were relaxed as he slumbered, taking years off his age.

His wide eyes swept over the sketch once more, noticing the careful, even _tender_, detail she poured into each line and curve.

When had she drawn this?

Another question dawned on him, causing an unexpected blush to rise to his cheeks.

When had she been in his bedroom?

_How often_ had she been in his bedroom?

How had he not noticed, damn it!

**_I wish you'd unclench your fists  
And unpack your suitcase_**

Drawing still clenched in his trembling hands, Jason straightened. He turned around slowly, raking a tired gaze over the main floor of his penthouse.

Her _I heart NY_ coffee cup rested on the cloth coasters she had bought for his end tables. Her yellow afghan, now folded neatly, reminded him of when it would be strewn carelessly across the sofa. A lone pencil with a fuzzy pink eraser head poked out from under the coffee table.

She was _everywhere_ in his penthouse, whether physically or not. And he wasn't sure of what he'd do if her presence ever deserted him, leaving behind only a cold, stark apartment.

And because of their argument, he was most certain she would do just that.

**_Lately there's been too much of this_**

The gentle _click_ of the door as the knob turned snapped Jason out of his melancholy musings. The treasured sketchbook dropped to the floor in his surprise.

The door opened slowly, and Jason's wide eyes came to rest on the very blonde head of a young boy who came barely up to his thigh.

Unmindful of the bewildered look on Jason's face, the boy raised a grubby hand to his head, snatching off the red baseball cap. He wore a soiled Little League uniform and a weathered catcher's mitt on one hand.

He looked up at the man he had intruded on but Jason was suspended in a state of cataplexy, unable to even form a coherent thought at the arrival of the tiny trespasser.

The boy looked away, spying the remnants of the unlucky paperweight and the sea of papers on the floor, darting a regretful glance at the abused desk chair in the corner.

"What a mess," he declared, setting two small hands on his waist.

Jason watched in amazement as the child _tsk_-_tsk_ed with disapproval before sighing and retrieving the leather chair.

As he pushed it back toward the desk, he shot the dumbfounded man a reprimanding look. "From what I've seen, you have a certain way of getting yourself into these _messes_, and I'm not talking about the paperweight, either."

**_But don't think it's too late_**

The statement spurred him into action. In an instant he was by the boy, barring his path to the desk.

"What – what are you doing?"

The child gave him a _you've-got-to-be-kidding-me_ look. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

His patronizing tone further angered Jason. "No," he bit out, never moving his eyes from the child. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"How the hell did you get in here? Who are you, anyway?" he asked, fed up with the smug retorts. "This building has top security downstairs, the elevators are password-protected, there's an armed bodyguard in the hall, and I swear to God that door was locked!"

Sensing he wouldn't receive a clear response, Jason turned from the child and leaped to the door, trying the knob.

Still locked. _What the f?_

He shot a scathing glance at the boy before opening the door, half expecting the child to vanish into thin air and confirm the fact that Jason was, indeed, losing his mind.

"Johnny?" Jason's voice echoed in the hall. "Do you want to tell me why there's a little kid in my- Johnny?"

Jason couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed them quickly, convinced he was seeing things.

Johnny stood stock-still at his post in front of Sonny's door. His hands clasped in front of his trousers, the guard stared straight ahead and showed no signs of animation.

Jason approached hesitantly, hopping slightly on one foot and flailing his arms directly in Johnny's field of vision. "Johnny?"

The guard remained transfixed.

Jason huffed in annoyance, storming back into his penthouse and slamming the door behind him. The boy's wide eyes, blue and intense, found him as soon as he entered.

Cursing, Jason shoved past him toward the pool table. Either the men were all playing a joke on him, or Jason Morgan had _really_ been smoking the good stuff.

The boy watched him, smiling, waiting for Jason to spin around and resume his tirade. Instead, the mobster stood calmly, hands shoved into his pockets, and stared out the balcony doors.

He could almost hear the older man counting aloud as he ticked off thirty seconds.

Suddenly, he pivoted quickly on his feet, as if he had hoped the child had disappeared, only to be a figment of his imagination.

"I'm still here," the boy smiled, pushing the chair back toward the desk. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Jason steeled his jaw, stalking menacingly toward the child. His intimidation tactics were lost on his victim as the young boy climbed onto the chair, his Nike sneakers leaving dusty footprints on the leather, and sat down on the cleared desk.

"You know," he mused, setting his cap and mitt next to him and clasping his hands in his lap, "you really shouldn't get into the habit of making such messes. That's how your _life_ became such a mess."

"Oh, man," Jason muttered, chuckling. "Now I _know_ I'm losing my mind."

"Hey," the boy cried indignantly. "Take that back."

Jason covered his face with his hands, breathing slowly and deeply. After a few minutes, he peeked through his long fingers, heart sinking at the sight of the child still perched on the desk, swinging his little legs off the edge.

"OK," he sighed calmly, walking toward the boy. "We're going to get this straight."

He was greeted with an enigmatic smirk, which he chose to ignore. Folding his arms over the chair in an effort to remain calm and rational, Jason tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts in his head.

"What's your name?" Despite his attempt to remain civil, Jason realized too late that his question was hardly posed in a friendly manner.

"Johnny," the boy replied amiably, not caring about Jason's gruff voice.

"Johnny?"

The boy could tell Jason was surprised, and nodded. "Yup. My dad said that he named me after a really old friend of his." One sneaker poked at the leather of the chair, tracing a small circle. "He saved his life and died before I was born."

"This friend saved your dad's life?" Jason couldn't help but ask, his curiosity having gotten the better of him. Maybe the kid's answers would provide him with some clues as to who the hell he was.

The boy nodded again. "I heard my dad telling my uncle once about how it happened. He said that it was a few months before I was born and he and my mom were coming home from the hospital and stopped for some soup at this one restaurant. Then he said that all of a sudden, these gunshots came out of nowhere. He raised his arms, small hands punctuating each sound. _"Boom! Bang! Pow!"_

Despite himself, Jason jumped in surprise at the explosive sound effects. He found it very strange that such a young child could speak so candidly of gun violence.

"So my dad tried to protect my mom, and his friend Johnny protected them both, but he was shot three times here." He poked at his upper chest with an index finger. "He died in the hospital."

Jason swallowed. "He was a hero."

The boy nodded emphatically. "I know. That's what my mom and dad always tell me. We have a picture of him with them on our mantle. My dad said he knew right then that he wanted to name me after him. He said that he was one of the best friends he ever had, even though Johnny worked for him."

Again, the child's words jolted Jason in surprise. If he noticed the effect he had on him, the boy didn't notice, trying instead to brush back his soft blonde hair from his forehead.

The fingers clenched in the leather of the chair dug deeper as Jason felt his stomach clench. None of this made any sense…a statue-esque Johnny in the hall, a miniature _Johnny_ perched on his desk…and why wasn't Elizabeth clomping around upstairs?

And why weren't the birds chirping anymore? It wasn't dark yet. And what-

"What's going on?" His voice was a whisper, betraying his confusion and the onset of panic.

The boy's intense blues glittered before him. "An intervention."

**_Nothing's wrong, just as long as you know that  
Someday I will…_**

A strangled laugh escaped Jason's lips. "I must be losing it." He staggered back a step, both hands on his knees as he tried to stop the room from tilting precariously.

Johnny glanced at the sketchbook on the floor, spying a picture of Jason sleeping. With a sad sigh, he stopped kicking his legs and leaned forward in his seat.

"She's pretty angry."

Jason glanced up, his fearful eyes traveling over the boy. _Just play along_. "Yeah."

Johnny continued staring at the book, his eyes downcast and troubled. "And she has every right to be."

"Excuse me?" Jason cast aside his discretion, certain he had heard wrong.

"I _won't_ excuse you," the boy fired back calmly. "She has every right to be angry with you."

Jason simply stared at him, aiming a no-nonsense enforcer glare at the tot. "Who are you to know anything?" he asked just as calmly, his smooth demeanor concealing the anger starting to bubble up again. He moved slowly toward the boy, a sleek panther in direct view of his prey.

The boy watched his advance calmly from under hooded eyes. He made no move to get up or address Jason's questions, just sitting serenely as the perturbed older man approached.

Jason reached the desk, staring at the child for a moment before pushing the leather chair away. His surprise grew as the boy didn't even flinch when Jason bent toward him, placing both hands on the desk next to Johnny's legs.

The kid stared straight up at him with those haunting blue orbs, as if proclaiming in silent defiance that he knew Jason wouldn't hurt him under any circumstances.

"I don't have a # clue about what is going on here, so I'll just go by what I _do_ know." Jason's voice was low and strained, a deep rumble in his chest. "Who are you to walk into my home? Who are you to sit here and pretend you know me, when you obviously-"

He stopped, perplexed by the small smile on the boy's face. If this kid had answers, he sure wasn't going to share.

"What's your name?" Jason already knew the answer, but repeated the question again regardless.

"Johnny."

"Where were you born?"

The child didn't blink. "Venice."

Jason hid his surprise as best he could, but when Johnny's smug grin grew, he knew he was failing miserably.

"How old are you?"

"Five and a half."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

A mischievous light shined in the sparkling seas of blue. "Not yet."

Not knowing what to make of the enigmatic response, Jason chose to ignore it. He jutted his chin out at the boy's soiled uniform. "What's with the outfit?"

Johnny glanced down at the white uniform, covered in vertical red pinstripes and shrouded with a light layer of dust.

"Little League. I was practicing with my dad and my dog, Sunny."

Jason choked slightly. "Sunny?"

The child nodded. "Sunny. He's a golden lab."

Jason glanced away, his head spinning as a hurricane of jumbled thoughts whirled about. _Too strange_. "Where's your mother?"

Johnny picked at the edge of the desk, his blue orbs never wavering from Jason's. "She's probably at her gallery."

"Wait – what?" Jason could scarcely believe his ears.

"Her art gallery," the boy repeated pointedly. "She has some new exhibit starting next week, and she has to organize all her paintings. She's been going there every day for the last two weeks."

Jason's stomach churned and his mouth felt as dry as a sock. "And where's your father?" he asked slowly, almost fearing the answer.

Johnny smirked. "Around."

Before Jason could make him clarify, the boy spoke up again. "Okay, now it's _my_ turn to ask the questions."

Jason could only gape at him as he readied the first inquiry. About to ask his question, Johnny stopped suddenly with his mouth agape as something over Jason's shoulder caught his eye.

"Hey!" In an instant he was squirming off the table, landing on the floor below. As Jason watched in muted shock, he raced across the room and picked up a stuffed teddy bear in a blue jumpsuit from the table by the balcony, giving it a fierce hug.

When he turned around, his vivid eyes were gleaming in happiness. "Where'd you find Furry Murry?" he asked excitedly, arms still wrapped around the plump bear. "I thought I lost him for good!"

Jason tried to speak, but his words stubbornly refused to come out. The bear was a gift from the kids at General Hospital when Elizabeth finished painting a new mural on the wall of the Pediatrics department, but apparently it was also familiar to Johnny.

The boy waited for a response, shaking his head in disapproval when he got none. With a sigh, he walked calmly back to the desk, throwing the bear on top before climbing up himself and resuming his original position.

"OK," he started again. "Like I said, it's my turn to ask questions."

Jason swallowed as the boy's expressive eyes met his.

"Why do you think she's angry?"

Though the question was posed with the wide-eyed innocence of a child, Jason still felt pangs of resentment burn in his chest.

"That's no one's business."

Johnny rolled his eyes, still clutching one of Furry Murry's arms. "Humor me."

Jason huffed, dropping both hands on the desk once more. "Because I lied," he stated flatly, not too keen on answering the boy's questions.

Johnny shook his head once, soft blonde tresses flying before settling down once more. "Try again."

Quirking an eyebrow, Jason obliged. "Because she can't handle my life."

The boy snorted. "Try again."

A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked as the enforcer steeled his jaw. "Because I'm not who she wants," he replied in a louder voice, annoyed.

Johnny puckered his mouth to the side. "Nope. Try again."

Jason huffed, cursing under his breath. Why he was humoring a five-year old, he had no idea, but he continued to do so. "Because she wants me to change."

"Try again."

**_Someday, somehow  
I'm going to make it all right  
But not right now_**

That was it. "Why, then?" he challenged, sneering at the impossible child before him.

Johnny gazed calmly up at him, his answer swirling in the depths of his midnight blue eyes. "She's just afraid you don't need her. And that fear translates into anger. She's angry because it's no secret that she needs you; anyone that has ever seen the two of you together knows it. But when that sense of need isn't returned, it understandably angers her."

Jason furrowed his brow as Johnny kept speaking.

"She wants some level of security in your relationship," he continued, dragging Furry Murry into his lap. "She needs to know that you're all right. That you're safe in the middle of the night. She wants to be able to take care of you, something you just can't let her do, huh? She wants your feelings out in the open, like hers are."

He squirmed forward, wrapping his arms around the corpulent bear. "She can't be a second priority," he confided as Jason's eyes narrowed. "Not when your relationship has always been about equality and level footing. She needs assurance from your part that her fears aren't real or justified."

**_I know you're wondering when  
You're the only one who knows that_**

"What do you think of what I just said?" The question was a muted whisper tinged with hope.

Jason sighed deeply, hanging his head. "I think she'd be better off without me," he replied honestly.

Johnny blanched. "W-What!"

Jason didn't notice the horrified look on his face. "I think she'd be better off without me," Jason repeated firmly, sure of himself.

When he looked up at the boy in front of him, he was astonished to see a fire blazing in the boy's icy eyes. A look of sheer turbulence and distress passed over his cherubic face, and Jason wondered if he had said something wrong to upset to the child.

Johnny blinked rapidly, clearing his face of any signs of shock. He cleared his throat, piercing blue eyes never leaving Jason.

_He's got a good poker face_, Jason mused. _Wonder who he learned that from._

He was pulled from his thoughts with Johnny's stern command. "Close your eyes."

"Excuse me?"

"Close your eyes," he repeated firmly, his face stoic. "You need to see something."

Jason swallowed. "I don't 'see things' that well," he stammered, confused. "I can't dream or anything like that, because of the accident…"

Johnny shook his head. "It's not a dream," he corrected flatly. "It's a vision."

Sensing from the perplexed look on Jason's face that the mobster had no idea what he was saying, Johnny explained farther. "Dreams are fabrications of the subconscious. Yours obviously can't handle that. But we'll see if you can handle the _truth_ instead, which you most likely won't be able to. But maybe you'll manage to learn your lesson and _never_ say anything about someone being better off without you again."

When Jason opened his mouth to protest, Johnny shook his head resolutely.

"You don't get to make those decisions," he stated. "And now you'll see exactly why."

**_I hope that since we're here anyway  
We could end up saying  
Things we've always needed to say  
So we could end up staying_**

Feeling like a fool for entertaining the whims of a kid who couldn't even read, yet unable to do anything else, Jason closed his eyes as he was instructed.

He gasped when Johnny's warm hands pressed down gently on his eyes. From beyond the darkness, the child began to speak. His voice was serious and had lost its child-like pitch.

"Without her – if you end up letting her walk out the door today – this is what your lives will be like," he began.

Jason's pulse raced as amorphous images began to spin out in the black plane before him. They wove and meshed themselves together until he could see them clearly and distinctly.

His heart began to pound loudly, hurling itself against his ribcage, and Jason was certain even Johnny could hear the palpitations.

"You'll throw yourself into your work."

Jason gasped audibly as an image of himself standing outside Sonny's door assaulted him. He was knocking repeatedly, fairly banging on the door with no response.

"You'll be Sonny's lapdog even more – Elizabeth gave you a reason to find a backbone when it came to Sonny and Carly and set your priorities."

The door opened after what seemed like forever, and a shirtless Sonny dressed only in silk pajama bottoms opened the door, with a rather cross Carly wearing his top and clinging to his arm.

"Now you have no priorities," Johnny's voice continued, distant and ominous.

Jason watched in stunned silence as Sonny gave him a few terse orders. After listening intently, he nodded enthusiastically and all but raced to the elevator, leaving Sonny and Carly to kiss passionately in the doorway before disappearing inside.

"Nor do you have your dignity."

Jason balked. "What?" he got out, sure he had heard wrong.

"Yeah," came the only reply.

Jason watched as the images played out like a stuck film reel in his head: him getting out of the elevator, Sonny giving him orders, him racing out again. It repeated over and over until Jason was certain he was watching an old British comedy flick.

As quickly as they were playing, the images stopped and Jason was left staring into a chasm of darkness.

"She's better off than you are right now," Johnny's voice interjected.

Images of Elizabeth formed before him. She was in her studio, lying on the couch with a pint of ice cream in her hand. The case for Cary Grant's _An Affair to Remember_ lay empty near her feet, a box of Kleenex on the floor below her.

And then she was at her easel, and Nikolas was on her couch. He was perched on the arm of the red sofa, his arms crossed over his chest and a formidable frown on his face as he listened to her. Elizabeth was talking as she painted, slashing at the canvas with shades of crimson and violet. Her words jumbled together faster, the movements of her brush increasingly frenetic until her hand was a whirlwind of motion, the plain canvas disappearing under her strokes.

And then Nikolas was at her side, plucking the abused brush from her nimble fingers and pulling her to him in a tight hug.

"She's merely drowning her sorrows in BenJerry's and talking to her friends," the voice continued.

Jason barely heard Johnny as new images spun together before him.

Elizabeth in a blue tee shirt…Elizabeth at a prison…Elizabeth at a bar…with Lucky.

"Oh, and she's leaving town on an adventure that helps her best friend and keeps her mind off of you," Johnny added as Jason continued to stare, his mouth falling open under the power of the vision.

He swallowed noisily as one bizarre image after another assaulted him.

Elizabeth in…_Holy shit_.

In the background, Johnny chuckled.

Elizabeth dressed in leather pants and the smallest scrap of a tube top Jason had ever seen, her face covered in smoky makeup and harlot-red lipstick glossed over her full lips.

Elizabeth in a black miniskirt that exposed _way_ too much leg for anyone else to be looking at, leaning against a fire engine red old Corvette convertible, complete with fins.

Elizabeth in a barn with Luke and Lucky, being arrested by the police.

"Damn Spencer," he growled, his hands fisting at his sides.

He could almost see Johnny's amused smirk. "Maybe, but he's a heck of a lot better for her than you are – _at the moment._"

Jason wasn't sure what the boy meant by that, but he nodded anyway as the images continued to dance before him.

**_Now the story's played out like this  
Just like a paperback novel_**

New images spun out from the darkness. They were smoky and dark, and it took Jason a minute to figure out where his vision had taken him. He almost choked when he figured it out.

The Oasis.

Johnny's voice reappeared from the recesses of his consciousness.

"You, on the other hand, are at a strip club mooning over your brother's wife."

Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing, but the merciless images before him didn't lie.

Smoke curled before him and Jason found himself staring at a small stage done up with gaudy lights. Gyrating shamelessly around a shiny metallic pole was his sister-in-law Courtney, dressed in a tacky white fur number that left nothing to the imagination.

He found himself gagging at the image, inwardly begging for it to depart. But the ghastly music continued, the dancers kept grinding.

"You'll find yourself eating chicken pot pies and burnt cookies."

He was in a small apartment, sitting at a tiny table with a half-eaten chicken dinner before him. Courtney sat opposite to him, brandishing a fork and smiling at him.

"You'll be the official walker of a rather fat dog."

He was on the sofa, a large golden Labrador sprawled over his legs. The dog was ridiculously heavy and was proceeding to slobber all over Jason's favorite jeans.

"And you're doing something with your brother's wife that Mom won't let me watch on TV."

The boy's humorous commentary did little to alleviate the hideous sight that assaulted him next.

He was still in that shabby apartment with the candles blinking behind him. Only now he was kissing his sister-in-law, ripping off her hideous pink cardigan as fast as he could. She offered him what she believed to be a seductive smile and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Jason gagged once more, tears pricking his eyes. This couldn't be how his life would be; it just _couldn't_. What had he let himself become?

"I-I don't believe you," he gasped, trying to ward off the nauseating images.

"I have no reason to lie," Johnny replied quietly. "Trust me, I _saw_ what happened to Pinocchio."

The pictures disappeared, and a relieved Jason found himself surrounded by darkness once more. Johnny still hadn't removed his hands.

"By the way," he added as new images began to swirl into form, "you also married your archnemesis and your boss' ex-lover." Jason heard him snicker. "I know friends share, but that's just ridiculous."

Jason did a double-take when he saw himself standing in a Las Vegas wedding chapel, a smiling Brenda next to him. He wore an omnipresent scowl, occasionally barking at the minister to hurry it up.

His mind raced as the minister performed the service. _Brenda_? He was marrying _Brenda_?

She was hardly who he had in mind for the first _Mrs. Jason Morgan_. What in the hell prompted him to marry the most annoying damn woman he'd ever known?

**_Let's rewrite an ending that fits  
Instead of a Hollywood horror_**

The images faded into oblivion, leaving Jason gasping for breath. His head swum and his throat felt strangely constricted.

"That-That can't be me," he sputtered. "I'd n-never do that."

Johnny removed his hand from Jason's eyes, sighing. He watched silently as Jason opened his eyes, rubbing at them as the sun's dim rays in the penthouse blinded him.

"Correction," Johnny started as Jason regained his bearing. "You'd never do any of that _as long as_ she's in your life, as your friend or girlfriend or whatever."

Jason stared at him with apprehensive eyes, listening carefully as the child spoke.

"She makes you want to be a better man, and so you are." Johnny leaned back on the desk, swinging one foot over the edge again. "We are extremely adaptable, extremely malleable to the company we keep, and I'm afraid that you've been mixed up with the wrong crowd all this time. And even more so if you let her go."

**_Nothing's wrong,  
Just as long as you know that someday I will_**

The gravity of the boy's words had a sobering effect on Jason, and the mobster let out a troubled sigh.

"Maybe you're right," he admitted slowly, averting his gaze. His shoulders dropped and he chewed wistfully on his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "You're right," he repeated, firmly. "You're right – I need her in my life. If that's what you wanted me to know, I've known it now for a long time."

Johnny smiled happily, all previous tension lifting off his angelic face.

Jason's face remained glum, his words strained. "But it's not whether _I_ need her or not. It's 'does she need me'?"

The smile dropped off of Johnny's face. He stared at Jason suspiciously, his eyes betraying a fear of Jason's next words.

"And the answer is no."

The boy didn't even blink at the dejected statement. He didn't show any signs of emotion as he regarded Jason with a single lifted brow.

But amusement soon kicked up the corner of his mouth, much to Jason's annoyance. "Wow," he smirked. "She wasn't kidding when she said you were stubborn."

**_Someday, somehow  
I'm going to make it all right  
But not right now_**

Jason rolled his eyes, seeing little humor in the situation. "Look, Elizabeth doesn't need me," he insisted. "She'll be fine – yeah, even _better off_- without me. I might get caught up in a couple…" he hesitated, picking his words carefully, "_sticky_ situations, but she'll be fine."

**_I know you're wondering when_**

Johnny's air of amusement shattered. As Jason watched, the child seemed to panic before him. Sapphire eyes wide and fearful, his voice raised to a higher pitch, he began to make emphatic gestures as he spoke.

"You don't understand!" he cried, two small fists pounding on the desk. His turbulent eyes found a stunned Jason. "How can you not _understand_? How can you say that? Do you even _know_ what happens to her? Do you even _want_ to know!"

Jason moved forward, arms outstretched in an attempt to comfort the screaming child. But Johnny just kept going.

"How can you say something so callous when you don't even know what she'll go through because of you!"

**_You're the only one who knows that_**

Now he had Jason's undivided attention.

"What do you mean, '_because of me'_?" he asked, voice gravely in his apprehension. "Tell me what's going to happen to her. Can you do that?"

Johnny didn't seem to hear him. The boy's face had grown alarmingly pale and he showed few signs of calming down.

"That's when he'll come," he whimpered in anguish, hands fisted so tightly in his lap that his small knuckles turned alabaster in color. "He's been waiting for an opportunity. Any opportunity."

Jason's fingers latched onto the tiny hands, prying them open. He found himself rubbing them gently to increase circulation as he searched the depths of Johnny's vivid blue eyes.

"He's been waiting to get his hands on her. He's been waiting to get his hooks into her." The boy was beyond terrified now. "And now he's got the freedom to do so because you're no longer there to protect her."

"Wait, wait," Jason interjected, shaking his head. "Even if Elizabeth and I aren't together, I'll always protect her."

A fire blazed uproariously in the intense baby blues, and Johnny practically leapt up from his seat, small fists landing on Jason's chest.

"You can't!" he cried as Jason steadied him back on the desk. "This time you can't! No one can! Not this time! Not with _him_!"

**_How the hell did we wind up like this?_**

Strong hands gripped Johnny's shoulders, earnest eyes bore into his. "Can you tell me?" Jason whispered, deathly terrified of what would come next.

"He's an evil man," Johnny whispered back sorrowfully. "More evil than Moreno, Sorel, Faison, and Alcazar put together."

If Jason was surprised at the boy's knowledge of enemies past, he was accustomed to not showing it now.

"And you'll never be able to beat him – unless you stop him before he does anything," Johnny added, tears swimming in his eyes.

Jason licked his lips. "Who?" he asked gently. "Who am I fighting, John?"

The boy shuddered lightly under Jason's firm hands. "Ric," he bit out, as if the word itself held evil comparable to the man.

_Ric?_ Jason didn't know of any Ric within the organization, or even within the town, for that matter. "Who's Ric?"

The child pursed his lips, his wide eyes begging Jason not to force him to explain too farther. "He's Sonny's brother. He pretends to be his lawyer."

**_Why weren't we able  
To see the signs that we missed  
And try to turn the tables?_**

Jason tried furiously to make sense of the new information. _Sonny has a brother? Impossible – we just found out he has a sister. How can one man have so many lost family members?_

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought, staring hard into the petrified child's face. _He has no reason to lie or offer inaccurate information._ "Sonny's brother is interested in Elizabeth?"

It was the first question that came to Jason's mind, and it made his stomach clench painfully. _He_ was the one who was concerned to death about involving Elizabeth in his life, and yet Sonny's _brother_, even more inextricably linked to the life, wasn't?

Johnny rolled his eyes, exasperation causing him to bite down fiercely on his lower lip. "Do you not listen?" he shrieked. "Did you not just hear me? He's _more_ than interested! He's _obsessed_!"

Jason didn't like the sound of a strange mobster being obsessed with Elizabeth. And hearing about this extreme infatuation from the mouth of a child made it all the more eerie.

"He's even more obsessed with her than Sylvester is with Tweety," Johnny continued tearfully.

"Who?"

"Do you know what Sylvester tries to do with Tweety?"

_Do I even know why this is relevant?_ "What?"

"He tries to eat him!"

Jason had lost count of how many times this child had confused him today. "Ric tries to eat Elizabeth?" _Was cannibalism genetic?_

"No!" Johnny shrieked, all patience long gone. "_Much_ worse!"

**_Now the story's played out like this  
Just like a paperback novel_**

"He marries her."

The blood drained out of Jason's face.

Was that really how awfully it all ended? She got _married_? _Married_? To someone who wasn't _him_?

Johnny watched as Jason balked at his own thought.

_Where did that come from? I never gave any serious thought to marrying Elizabeth_.

You never thought she'd want you, a voice in his head clarified.

_I never figured myself as the marrying type._

There is no _type_, the voice continued. You never thought about it because you were too afraid. It's as simple as that. But if you really think about it…

_I'd like to marry her someday._

Then hold on to that thought, the voice urged.

_You sound a lot like Johnny, in logic._

Maybe I am.

Jason glanced up at Johnny, whose turbulent eyes betrayed nothing. The boy was still locked within his paralyzing fear. When he continued to speak, his voice was low and strained, as if it was physically taxing to speak about Ric.

"And he cheats on her with a mob wife."

Jason's blood boiled within him. No woman deserved to be betrayed like that. _Least of all Elizabeth_.

"This woman puts a snake in her studio," Johnny added, his tone monotonous. "When she gets to the hospital, she finds out she's going to have a baby."

Jason cringed.

"So they get back together. But then Elizabeth is pushed down a flight of stairs."

Jason choked as images of Carly in the hospital bombarded him. Elizabeth couldn't meet the same fate. She just _couldn't_.

"She loses the baby."

Jason bowed his head, his breathing shallow. _She would have made a wonderful mother for any man's children_.

"But that's not the worst part." Johnny's quiet voice bore through his senses. "He's always kidnapping or drugging someone while he's married to her. He pretends to do to Carly what Tom did to her."

Those simple words had Jason seeing all red. Hands fisted tightly, cutting off circulation, he knew he couldn't handle much more.

"That's when he goes crazy. He locks Carly in their new home – while she's pregnant. He wants to steal the baby for Elizabeth."

Johnny's eyes swept over Jason, whose gaze was averted to the shining hardwood below. After the shock he'd already gone through, Jason didn't think anything would surprise him anymore.

He was dead wrong.

"For it to work, Ric has to fix it so she doesn't get pregnant."

A grimace passed fleetingly over Jason's face, the mobster's disgust for Ric's perception of pregnancy evident.

"So, for the hundredth time, he drugs her."

The silence weighed down on the two inhabitants of the penthouse. Neither moved as Johnny continued his grisly account.

"He puts pills into her OJ. Drugs her every morning while she eats breakfast." Johnny stopped, carefully watching Jason. The mobster had yet to say anything, or even move.

Sparks shot from Johnny's midnight eyes, and before Jason could blink he found two small hands fisted in the navy cotton of his t-shirt.

"Do you know what happens?" Johnny demanded, his face inches from Jason's. The reserved monotony was lost, in its stead turbulence, panic and wild agitation. "Do you know what he _does_ to her?"

Jason remained quiet, staring helplessly into Johnny's icy eyes. His silence served only to further infuriate the child.

Johnny pulled Jason forward, his two hands stretching the cotton of Jason's shirt. Wild tears streaked down his face leaving slick tracks on his cheeks. Even as Jason's hands found his waists in an attempt to soothe the agitated child, Johnny continued screaming.

"He _kills_ her!" The words were torn from the sobbing boy's soul. "She has an embolism and has to go to the hospital. She _dies_! Do you hear me? _She dies_! You watch her die right in front of you!"

The strength departed from Jason's body, and it was all he could do to remain standing upright. "No…"

"Yes!" Johnny cried mercilessly, removing one hand from Jason's shirt to angrily swipe at his tears. "That's what the monster does to her! It wasn't enough for him to kill her heart and her spirit – he wanted to take her life, too!"

Small fists beat Jason's chest, unleashing a raw, powerful anger and sense of desperation.

"You can't let that happen! You can't be so selfish and u-unconcerned," the boy sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't notice Jason wrap an arm around his narrow waist. "Please, you can't let him do that to her! Don't let him kill my Mom, please, _don't_!"

**_Let's rewrite an ending that fits  
Instead of a Hollywood horror_**

Huge sobs wracked Johnny's small shoulders as he half-choked while breathing.

Without even knowing what he was doing, Jason scooped the tiny boy into his arms, letting the blonde head burrow into the crook of his neck as he cried. Two chubby arms wrapped around his thick neck, and Jason's large hand splayed against Johnny's back, stroking and soothing the bawling child.

As he swayed slowly, rocking the boy, new visions - soft and gentle - assaulted Jason.

Images of strolling around a dark nursery with a tiny infant cradled against his hard chest. A small bottle of warm milk in his hand, he saw himself staring down into the loving and trusting eyes of the baby he held.

Visions of scooping up a barely mobile infant after he fell off the couch, the crumbly remnants of an arrowroot cookie still clenched in the tiny fist. The child wailed against his shoulder, drooling on Jason's tank top, only to be soothed with a kiss on the nose and a fresh cookie.

Eyes closed, he saw himself pacing back and forth on the balcony, a feverish toddler draped over his chest. The boy's hands, placed on Jason's bare shoulders, burned his skin, and Elizabeth's frantic voice in the kitchen told him she was already on the phone with their pediatrician.

And then, he watched himself pick up a small boy with scraped knees and elbows, sprawled on the sidewalk next to a bicycle. He watched himself kissing the boy's blonde head and whispering that he was going to be just fine.

All memories of ever holding Johnny bombarded Jason at once. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh, tears brimming over the edge and racing down his cheeks. As the boy's sobs faded into quiet whimpers and ragged breaths, Jason discreetly swept away his own liquid emotion with the back of his hand, clearing his throat before pulling back to look at the boy in his arms.

"Don't worry." His words were gentle and soft. "Don't cry. Everything will be fine, I promise you."

**_Nothing's wrong  
Just as long as you know that  
Someday I will_**

Johnny sniffled brokenly, his eyes red and puffy. "How can you say that?" he asked raggedly. "Didn't you just hear what I said?" He pointed a finger to the door. "You might not even see her again if you let her leave today."

The child averted his eyes, his voice dropping to a sorrowful whisper. The hand on Jason's shoulder clenched his t-shirt. "And you definitely won't see me."

Beside himself with paternal instinct, Jason lifted a finger under Johnny's chin, bringing his gaze up. When he spoke, his voice trembled with determination and purpose.

"I won't let that happen." Johnny's face softened at the promise. "Not to her, not to me, and not to you."

**_Someday, somehow  
I'm going to make it all right  
But not right now_**

Producing a white cotton handkerchief from his pocket, Jason tenderly wiped away the boy's tears. Johnny squirmed when Jason tried to wipe his running nose, and the older man gripped him more firmly around the waist until the boy was in reach of the soft cloth.

_Snrk_ing away the last of his tears, Johnny regarded Jason with hopeful skepticism. "Are you sure? You've never been able to do something so…assertive before."

A corner of Jason's mouth quirked up as the boy continued.

"You'd tell yourself you didn't want to make her decisions for her and step away, not knowing that while she didn't need you to make her decisions _for_ her, she needed you to make them _with_ her."

**_I know you're wondering when_**

Jason shook his head. "I understand now," he replied honestly, his thumb tracing wide circles on Johnny's uniform. "I won't let anything like that happen to her. I would die first."

Johnny puckered his lips to the side, gravely staring at Jason as if he were sizing him up.

"I believe you," he replied quietly, his eyes shining with hope again.

**_You're the only one who knows that_**

He sat up straighter in Jason's arms, clearing his throat. "As soon as I leave," he directed sternly. "You're going to have to make some decisions."

Jason nodded obligingly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Some will be easy," Johnny continued, unmindful of Jason's amusement. "Like how you just decided that you wanted her to stay. But some will be a bit more difficult."

"Like what?"

The child raised an eyebrow, challenging Jason. "Like who's really _first_, _last_, and _always_ in your life. No exceptions."

Jason pursed his lips to keep from smiling.

"Is it Sonny, or is it her?" A hint of a smile passed over Johnny's full lips as well.

"I think I already know the answer to that," Jason smiled. "And it's not likely to change."

Johnny grinned. "Are you sure you don't want a hint?" he teased as Jason's smile widened into a grin.

"Do you think I need one?" the mobster teased back, swallowing his laughter.

Johnny pretended to think for a moment, tapping a finger wistfully on his chin. "Well, judging by the name of my dog, I don't think you do."

Jason laughed aloud at the mention of Sunny the golden retriever.

"But just be warned," Johnny added seriously, " you'll have to make some very difficult decisions in your life."

Jason thought a moment, his blue eyes glittering. "I think I'm ready," he nodded confidently.

Johnny's eyes gleamed. "I think so, too."

**_Someday, somehow  
I'm going to make it all right  
But not right now_**

Johnny squirmed and wriggled in Jason's grasp, signaling to the older man that he wanted to be put down. Obligingly, Jason complied, kneeling down on the hardwood.

"Congratulations," he grinned as Johnny straightened his uniform and put on his baseball cap once more. "You've made a new man out of me."

Johnny squinted at him, shaking his head. "No," he replied seriously, fixing the brim of the red cap. "This is the man you've been all along." As Jason watched, he clutched his mitt under his arm, sweeping rebelling blonde locks off his forehead. "No one ever really changes anyone. They just awaken the qualities and thoughts already buried inside that person."

**_I know you're wondering when_**

Jason studied the small boy gravely. "Are we going to be okay, you think?"

**_You're the only one who knows that_**

Johnny smirked. "It's not important what _I think_; it's important what _you do_." He stepped back, one hand on the black desk chair. "See, Mom always told me that actions speak louder than words, and words are all _I_ can offer you right now."

He bent down, lacing up a sneaker. Jason watched him, his brows furrowed.

"Are you leaving now?" It was hard to imagine that when he arrived, Jason wanted him to leave. But now, all he wanted was for the little scamp to stay.

Johnny nodded with a small smile. "Yes." He studied Jason carefully. "But you have another question on your mind, no?"

**_I know you're wondering when_**

Jason blushed, embarrassed at how transparent he was to the little boy. "W-When will I see you again?"

**_You're the only one who knows that_**

Johnny's angelic face blossomed into a full smile. "Soon enough."

Jason rolled his eyes at the familiar enigmatic responses. Johnny placed a small hand on the gold doorknob, pulling the door open.

Jason's eyes landed on something furry sitting astride his desk. "Hey, John," he called, swooping it up and holding it out to the boy. "Don't forget your Furry Murry."

Johnny accepted him happily, stopping to pick lovingly at one of the bear's button eyes. As Jason watched, a new light gleamed in his eyes.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, regarding the bear with interest before looking up at Jason. "You don't have to give this to me – I just remembered where mine is!"

He shoved the bear into Jason's hand. "See, we went canoeing yesterday at the picnic, and Furry Murry got all wet when we all fell out of the boat. Dad said he'd wash him for me."

Jason smiled softly at _Dad_. He liked the sound of that.

"Thanks anyway," Johnny saluted with a smile. "But you'd better hold on to him for me. For now," he concluded with a wink.

**_I know you're wondering when_**

Jason knelt on the floor, Furry Murry dangling from his hands. "Can I ask you one more thing?" he asked hesitantly.

Johnny turned around. "Sure," he shrugged. "What?"

Jason licked his lips. "Why did you come?" Johnny smirked at the quiet question. "I-I get that you wanted to help us find our way back, but I can't help thinking you had an ulterior motive."

It was Johnny's turn to blush at how transparent he must have been.

**_You're the only one who knows that_**

"You don't seem to have much faith, Mr. Morgan."

The matter-of-fact statement surprised Jason. "I have faith," he argued defensively.

Johnny shook his head with a smile. "No, not the type that I mean. Sure, you have faith in yourself to make the right decisions at the right time."

Jason nodded.

"And you have faith in your friends to back you up when you're right and tell you flat-out when you're wrong. You have faith in your men to work with you and protect you." He smirked. "And I'm sure you even have faith that the rain in Spain is still falling on that same darn plane."

Now he had lost him. "What?"

Johnny shook his head. "Figure of speech," he replied in a _why-did-I-bother_ tone. "Anyway, it's all nice and quaint, but it's not what I'm talking about. I mean, do you really have _faith_?"

Jason's head swam. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean," Johnny explained patiently, "you don't seem to have that faith that springs eternal deep inside every man. The faith that wells up in your chest and brings tears to your eyes – the all-encompassing feeling that swallows you up in the middle of the night and tells you that you've done the right thing."

"The right thing?" Jason mimicked, still confused.

Johnny nodded. "It doesn't matter when or where to whom. All that matters is that this faith inside tells you that you're going to be just fine. You're going to be just fine," he repeated firmly. "You don't have that, do you?"

Jason rocked back on his heels, thinking carefully. "Now that I think about it," he replied slowly, as if tasting each word. "No. I guess I thought what I had was enough."

Johnny smiled gently, nodding in understanding. "Then _that's_ what I'm here for," he explained. "I'm the embodiment of that faith that bubbles deep inside you." He laid a hand over his own heart. "_I'm_ what tells and _shows_ you that you're going to be just fine."

Jason smiled, bowing his head. His long fingers wrapped around Furry Murry's fuzzy girth. "You know," he smirked, looking up at Johnny. "For someone so profound, one would think you'd be able to keep track of your teddy bear."

Johnny grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he asked as Jason laughed. "But then again, that's why I have parents."

Jason couldn't seem to wipe the grin from his face as he reached out and grabbed the boy by the waist, pulling him in for a quick kiss. Johnny giggled and wriggled away, running toward the door.

Pausing under it with a hand on the frame, he called out, "Love you, too," before scampering away.

Jason watched the empty doorway, a smile still gracing his countenance.

The sound of Elizabeth clomping around angrily upstairs once more snapped him out of his reverie. Outside, the birds resumed their afternoon chirping.

Jumping up from the floor, Jason stared apprehensively at the doorway before launching himself into the hall.

Standing dutifully at his post in the hallway, Johnny was stunned to see Jason bound to a stop in front of him, his vivid eyes wild.

"J-Johnny," he stammered anxiously, darting nervous glances around the hall. "Did you see any little kid come up here?"

Johnny stared at him in blatant confusion. "Should I have, sir?"

Jason chuckled, grinning widely. "I guess not, Johnny," he replied to the stunned guard. He turned to go, but then remembered something. "Johnny…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you." Jason's eyes were kind and earnest. "Thank you for always having my back. Don't ever change, because you don't know how much you mean to me."

With that, Jason spun around and raced back inside his penthouse, slamming the door behind him.

_Damn_, Johnny thought as he shuffled his feet. _Miss Webber sure is having quite an affect on him._

Inside, Jason rubbed his clammy hands together, waiting for Elizabeth to come down. He hastily swept up the broken shards of crystal and replaced her sketching pad. He was bending down to pick up fallen papers when he heard her footsteps on the stairs.

She came down quietly, her flip-flops making little noise against the cream carpet of the staircase. By his desk, Jason was bent over retrieving papers and flashing that toned rear in her face.

She rolled her eyes, stomping down the steps louder._ Damn him and his hard ass._

Jason spun around to see her walk toward her suitcase, pulling out the rolling handle. She didn't even speak or spare him a glance, and he took a deep breath, knowing what he had to do.

Elizabeth dumped her sketchbook into the open flap of her duffel bag, rolling her luggage to the door. When she reached out to turn the knob, Jason was in front of her, effectively barring her exit with his massive body.

His eyes were hard and determined, his mouth set. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Classic Enforcer.

He watched her sigh wearily, as if she was too exhausted to deal with his latest tricks.

"Jason, what are you doing?" Her tone was dejected and held little humor.

He licked his lips nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Stopping you from leaving."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her blue duffel bag over her shoulder. "Jason, just move."

He shook his head. "No."

She narrowed her eyes. "Just let me walk out of here – no fuss," she pleaded quietly. "And I'm sure we'll both see later on that we made the right choice."

He swallowed. "You don't mean that."

She shrugged, her face devoid of emotion. "We only fight when we're together," she noted stoically. "Either that, or we don't speak. And I'm sure that's a life that neither of us wants for ourselves. Who knows? Maybe we'll be better off without each other."

A fire blazed in Jason's eyes as he remembered what he had seen. Much to Elizabeth's astonishment, he grabbed her duffel from her shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. Wrenching the luggage handle from her small hand, he let it fall to the side, his eyes glittering and dark with purpose.

And then he was upon her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist as he tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. She yelped and pounded her small fists on his back as he strode quickly to the couch.

Once there, he dropped her onto the crimson leather and loomed over her, his hands on either side of her face. His toned and corded thighs were on either side of hers, his chest rising and falling over her flat stomach. She could only watch, dumbfounded, as his blue eyes bore lethally through hers.

"We're going to fix this, Webber. Once and for all."

Jason unlocked the door to his penthouse, dropping his keys on the desk when he entered. He stripped off his jacket and slung it across his chair, gazing around the empty apartment.

Sighing, he ruffled through some mail before tossing it on one of the end tables.

Jason collapsed on the sofa, resting his boots on the coffee table. A slew of motorcycle magazines lay on the base underneath, but he had already read all of them cover to cover.

Restless, Jason jumped up from his seat and walked to the mantle. It was horrendously blustery outside tonight. The wind seemed to cut through straight to the bones.

He started a fire in the fireplace, poking at the logs with a poker once it started to roar and crackle. Within five minutes, the penthouse would be nice and warm.

He glanced up at the mantle, housing an ever-increasing collection of trinkets and pictures. Nailed proudly to the wall above, the Wind graced the room and its inhabitants with its vivid colors and energized perspective.

Jason's eyes wandered leisurely from one end of the mantle to the other. The clay train Michael made for him on Father's Day last year lay next to a picture of Emily and Zander on their wedding day. Next to that was a picture of him and Elizabeth dancing at the wedding next to Alan and Monica, all wearing beaming smiles.

Jason's eyes skimmed over the rest of the trinkets before coming to rest on his favorite one. He reached for it and wrapped his fingers around the simple silver frame, the wedding band on his finger glinting as the rays from the fire bounced off of it.

He pulled it down, smiling at the picture.

It was one of him and Elizabeth seated on his couch, their hands linked together and genuine smiles on their faces. Even the motocyclette on her shirt was smiling.

The picture was taken the same evening of their argument; Sonny wanted to develop pictures of Michael's school play, but there were still a few left on the roll of film. So, late at night, Johnny came knocking on their door to snap a few pictures, pretending not to notice that their clothes were rumpled and Elizabeth's makeup was non-existent.

Jason grinned, tapping the picture. He glanced back at the couch behind him, images of that night running gleefully through his mind.

He remembered how angry she had been when the initial surprise of being hoisted off her feet had worn off. How she'd yelled and pounded his chest for him to get off of her, how he'd yelled right back and refused to budge.

How their furious ravings led to an honest hashing of their feelings. And how that had led to both of them, naked and sweaty, on that same leather couch.

He smiled wickedly as it all came back to him in that dark penthouse, the fire casting eerie and sinful shadows on the wall.

_Her wet skin ground against the burning leather of the couch as Jason's long fingers swept lower over her torso. _

"Oh, God," she moaned, nuzzling his neck as her polished fingers scratched his back, leaving tiny red crescents in their wake.

His primal growl had her blood whistling through her veins as his mouth claimed hers.

"J-Jason-" her whimper was lost in the recesses of his mouth as his tongue slithered into hers.

He kissed her fully, completely, as one strong arm burrowed beneath her, lifting her soft derriere off the scorching leather.

"Oh, for the love of-"

Her curses had him chuckling, low and rasping in the crook of her neck.

Jason shook his head briskly, freeing himself from the wicked memories. _Easy, boy_, he chided. His pants already felt three sizes to small.

He stared down at the picture, cherishing the genuinely happy look on Elizabeth's face. The way she seemed to lean lovingly toward him, how her fingers were swallowed up within his large hands.

As he was about to set it back on the mantle, Jason noticed something strange. He pulled the photo back, blinking as an image became clearer and more distinct.

He gasped, lifting his fingers to the cool glass of the frame.

Between him and Elizabeth's smiling faces there had formed another one. It was a face he knew well.

Nestled comfortably between the two, Johnny's familiar face grinned at the camera. He was perched on Jason's thigh with Jason's and Elizabeth's hands clasped at his waist.

Tears pricked Jason's eyes. When he blinked them away, the vision was gone.

"Jason?" came a voice from the top of the stairs. "Honey, are you home?"

"Yeah," Jason called, a frog in his throat. He set the photo back on the mantle, turning around and walking toward his wife. "I'm home."

She smiled excitedly, her eyes gleaming with happiness. "Good," she grinned, cupping his face and pulling him down for a soft kiss. When he tried to deepen it she squirmed away, smirking.

"Tease," he muttered as she playfully smacked him on the shoulder. Enticed by the mischievous gleam in her eyes, his broad hands found her narrow waist, pulling her flush against him. "So, how was your day?" he asked, nuzzling her temple.

She pulled away, still smiling. "Fine," she replied. "Actually, better than fine."

He studied her carefully. She bit her lip to hide her grin, her eyes dancing with delight. Jason brows came together.

"E-Elizabeth," he stammered as the fire cast brilliant light on her delicate features. "You're glowing."

She gave up hiding her joy, a dazzling grin illuminating her face. "Jason," she started, her voice trembling with ecstasy and emotion. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes bugged out and his mouth fell open. All he could see was that cherubic little face in the photograph.

"P-Pregnant?"

Before she had time to answer, Jason had lifted her off her feet and was whirling her around the room, whooping at the top of his lungs.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he spun her around. He knew he was probably waking up Sonny and Carly, but he was beyond caring.

Tears glistened in his eyes when he set her down. "How- when did you find out?"

Her eyes shined. "After lunch. I went to see Gram and complained of a stomachache. When she wanted me to get checked up, I argued that it was just Carly's potato salad." She wiggled her eyebrows. "It wasn't."

He laughed, kissing her forehead.

"I wonder what it'll be," she continued, face flushed with excitement. "I always wanted to have a son first. You know, a little man of the house."

Jason smiled against her hair. "I think it'll be a boy."

She gazed up at him, gently smoothing his hair back with her cool fingers. "He'll look just like you," she whispered against his mouth.

He swiped his tongue over her bottom lip. "But he'll have your spirit and heart."

"Come on, John, you can do it!" Jason called, jogging behind his son. For one full week, non-stop, his boy had been trying to master the art of riding a two-wheeler without training wheels.

And had scraped almost every part of his body in doing so.

"I'm doing it, Dad!" he called out excitedly. "I'm actually doing – _woah_!"

Jason cringed as the bike toppled over. He raced over as fast as he could, pulling the black bike off of his son.

John gingerly sat up, pulling off his black helmet and shaking his hair. Jason watched as the boy inspected himself for injuries. Wearing long pants, shin guards, kneepads, gloves, elbow guards, and a helmet, Jason knew he wouldn't find many. He and Elizabeth had learned their lesson when it came to scrapes and gashes.

Johnny blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes of tears before looking at his dad. Every day this week, his dad had run out with him at all odd times of the day to help him learn to ride. And it just wasn't happening.

He sighed heavily, getting on his feet. "Let's go home, Dad."

Jason stared at him, surprised. "What are you talking about? Aren't you going to get back on?"

Johnny shook his head. "I'm done."

"John-"

"I can't do it, Dad," he bit out. "I can't."

"You're still young, John," his father argued. "Most kids your age are just _starting_ with training wheels."

"I already know how to ride with training wheels," he shot back, pulling off his gloves. "I wanted to learn how to ride without them."

Jason nodded. "So do it, scamp."

"I can't."

Jason sighed, scooping his "five-and-three-fourths" son into his arms and standing up. "Hey, now," he chided. "That's no way for a Morgan man to talk." Johnny averted his eyes at his father's words. "Morgan men don't give up."

"Well, after cutting my knees three times and scraping off half my face," Johnny frowned, "_this_ Morgan man is giving up."

Jason shook his head, smirking. "Nope," he replied, pecking Johnny's cheek. "It's not possible for you to fail at anything you do."

Johnny scratched his head. "How do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

His father looked away. "I just do," he asserted enigmatically.

"How?" Johnny pressed, bringing a hand to his dad's rough cheek and forcing him to meet his gaze. "How do you know?"

Jason smirked, his eyes glittering. "It's a secret."

"It is not!" Johnny cried, pounding on his chest. "Tell me! Please?"

Jason considered it, finally relenting. "You're magic."

"What?"

"You're magic."

"No, I'm not!" the boy cried. "Dad, that's just silly. No one's magic."

"You are," Jason insisted, jiggling the child in his arms.

"No way, Jose!" Johnny replied with a firm shake of his head.

"Yes, you are," Jason argued back, jabbing him playfully in the stomach. "Trust me – I know."

Johnny's eyebrow quirked up, a small smile on his face. "How, Dad? Tell me."

Jason smiled, kissing his son on the forehead before setting him down next to the bike. Johnny picked it up, his intense blue eyes never leaving his father's face. "Tell me, Dad," he repeated.

Jason nodded, one hand on the leather seat of the bicycle. "Someday."

**El fin.**


End file.
